


Crash Landing

by Stray_Lilly



Series: X [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Angst, Astronauts, Best Friends, Blowjobs, Fingering, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Masturbation, Science Fiction, Smut, anal penetration, non-linear timeline, space survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Lilly/pseuds/Stray_Lilly
Summary: Two best friends find themselves struggling to survive when a space mission goes wrong. Despite the growing tension between them, their only means of survival is each other.[Based on Prompt #52]
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: X [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652857
Comments: 24
Kudos: 88
Collections: SKZ Fuckfest





	Crash Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #52: Person A and person B get stranded on a distant planet after their spaceship crashes and they need warmth from the cold.
> 
> Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy this!

It was strange seeing the sun so close. The size of a small car, it was still too far to inflict too much damage, but its rays scorched them. Every ray shining down on them was like a touch of fire, rendering their heat protection suits ineffective and more bothersome than anything else.

After the crash, their spacesuits had been ripped nearly to shreds, and now clung to their bodies uselessly. Chan had ripped the shreds off the upper half of his body, so that the tattered cloth hung from his hips as he bent over the orbital maneuvering system of their wrecked craft. 

Minho crouched nearby in a patch of shade created by the wreckage. He dug through the semi-charred boxes they’d managed to salvage before the latter half of the craft had completely combusted into smoke and ash, most of the cargo bay gone with it. “I think,” he said, lifting the flap of another box, “we have enough rations for another week or so.” 

“Medical supplies?” Chan asked, rubbing his grease-covered hands on his spacesuit. 

Minho shook his head. “A few bandages and a box of painkillers but everything else is…”

“Gone?”

“Gone,” Minho nodded. He gestured to the bunch of severed wires Chan’s was examining. “Any idea what happened?”

“Heat sensing system failed,” Chan sighed. “Like I warned them it could.”

“Fucking idiots,” Minho swore under his breath. The XR-720 Speedcraft was the only one of its kind. Constructed for high-velocity travel, its heat-proof surface was conducive to the heat required to propel them at groundbreaking speeds. Actually, the _entire_ craft was groundbreaking. 

Over the years, the amount of time required to travel to other planets had been watered down by the various advancements in engineering and technology. Minho and Chan were told that the travel-time to and back from Planet X90 would be approximately 122 days – just over four months – provided that everything went smoothly.

But nothing had gone smoothly. 

“Need me to take a look at that?” he asked Chan who’d propped himself on the ground beside Minho. A long cut ran down his left bicep, splitting the skin to reveal pink flesh beneath, a ribbon of blood trickling down his forearm. Along his ridged abdomen several bruises were now turning purple. He’d been in the engine room, trying to buy them more time when it happened, and he’d taken the brunt of the impact. 

Minho, piloting the craft, had been strapped into his seat and save for a few aches and pains, he was good to go.

“I’ll take care of it,” Chan shook his head, pressing a rag to his arm. “We need to think about what we’re going to do. This is X73. You know what that means.”

Minho knew all too well. He’d heard the horror stories too. In the past ten years, only three _X_ planets had been discovered – X49, X73 and most recently X90.

The X planets were all special discoveries – breakthroughs. For one, they wouldn’t need oxygen support because according to satellites, the hemispheres of the X planets mimicked that of the earths. The soil was also deeply enriched with natural nutrients and vitamins, prime for human life.

Of course, that’s what everyone said when a group was sent to X73 on a mission – retrieve soil samples and get out. It was supposed to have been simple, but it was a catastrophe. They’d completely misjudged the climate. They hadn’t allowed the satellite enough time to read the climate before jumping into a craft and heading up there.

When the group of four landed, everything was as they’d thought it would be. The sky was clear, the sun was shining – as hot as they’d expected it to be. They’d just begun collecting samples when the weather changed.

 _It just changed_. It happened in a flash. Sun gone, ice forming beneath their feet. They managed to get back to the craft but the engine had frozen over. They had to wait till morning to take off again. But when the sun rose, only one remained. The rest had died of hypothermia. 

While the scientists at Newton Space Research Centre were now studying X73 from afar, no one had dared step back on it. 

Minho and Chan had been on their way to X90 on a similar mission. And when the engine failed all they could do was change course for the nearest landing zone – X73.

The first thing Minho had noticed when they’d pulled themselves out of the wreckage were the dunes of sand that had luckily cushioned them, to some extent. The sand – white and grainy like heaps of salt – extended for several meters all the way to a large stretch of water, dull and gray to reflect the sky above them.

They didn’t know how long they had before the sun disappeared and it all turned to ice. It could be a matter of hours – or seconds. 

At least they were better prepared than the previous crew that visited X73. Minho had found a few heat-conserving blankets in a storage drawer. Except for the charred smell, they were in pretty good condition and should be able to protect them from the worst of the cold.

They laid out two of the blankets on the floor of what used to be the craft’s control-room. Now all that remained of the computers were tiny fragments of glass and frames of contorted wire. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anyway,” Minho murmured, stretching his legs out on a blanket. From the corner of his eye he could see Chan begin to bandage his arm. “I said I’d do that for you.”

“And I said that I can take care of it.”

Minho nodded. The tension that had settled between them had not dissipated. 

Sixty-Eight Days before the Crash

Unlike with most missions, the pre-celebration for the Planet X90 mission was more muted. Whereas the usual pre-celebration would include several press conferences, hundreds of flashing cameras, TV broadcasts, a crowded dance floor and bottles of bubbly being passed around like it was New Year’s Eve, this one lacked all the fanfare. 

It was 9pm, and only two people were present in the conference hall of the Newton Space Research Facility. Besides their boss, their immediate family and the crew who were to prepare them for take-off, only they knew about the existence of the mission. The NSRF preferred to keep this one under wraps, and considering that the Planet X73 mission had gone so terribly wrong, no one blamed them.

A bottle of barely touched whiskey between them – they couldn’t drink too much tonight – Minho studied the attractive man opposite him. Bang Chan was well-built and broad-shouldered. He had platinum blonde curls, which he absentmindedly wrapped around his fingers as he read their briefing sheet for the millionth time that night. His rosy lips pressed into a thin line and he narrowed his dark eyes at the words laid out before him.

Tearing his eyes away from Chan’s lips, Minho clicked his tongue. “Enough.” He placed a hand over the sheet, obscuring the older male’s view. “You’ve been at it the entire night,” he frowned. “Loosen up.”

Chan laughed, one of Minho’s favourite sounds – music to his ears, really – not that he’d ever admit that out loud. “You mean like yourself? You’ve been tense for the last month or so, ever since we received the mission.” He gave Minho a skeptical look. “Hypocrite.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I know. I guess there’s nothing we can do except get it over with. So we may as well enjoy ourselves while we have time.” With a mischievous smile he gestured to the speakers that were playing a song from Chan’s playlist. 

Chan grinned. “Wanna dance?”

The thought was almost absurd – two astronauts dancing by themselves in the NSRF conference room, but maybe, if you were to look closely, you would see two best friends trying to make the best of what could be their last day on earth. 

Some might say it was a bit of an exaggeration. Their mission was simple, but when you’re thousands of kilometers away from earth, there was a lot that could go wrong. This wasn’t their first rodeo, but neither of them were naïve enough to think that it lessened the risk. Space exploration was always a risk, and perhaps that was what drew them both in to the job, and to each other.

They’d been classmates at the Newton Academy, Chan joining a year late because he’d used a year to travel the world, learning what he could about the planet they lived on. _Earth is boring_ , he’d told Minho when he’d sat beside him on their first day at the academy. Within days, they’d become fond of each other, and five years later they were the best of friends. 

Chan led Minho to the small space available at the front of the conference room, one hand holding a glass of whiskey, the other hand clasping Minho’s. Minho tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that palpitated through his veins at the touch. He took a sip of whiskey, trying to push his feelings back into the compartment he usually locked them in. Placing the glass on the table, he offered Chan a smile. 

An RnB song he didn’t recognize was playing, but that was normal for Minho – he and Chan had such different tastes in music. It always made road trips difficult – difficult but fun. Everything was fun with Chan, whether it was a trip to the beach or a trip to another planet. There was no one else Minho would rather be with. Sure, he had other friends, and he dated casually, but Chan was a constant in his life – someone permanent. 

He let his best friend spin him around, tensing when he was pulled back against Chan’s chest. Chan’s strong arms circled his waist. This was normal too – Chan’s affection. But why did it always make it so hard for Minho to breathe?

Chan rested his head on Minho’s shoulder as their bodies swayed side to side. His cool breath ghosted over Minho’s neck, causing Minho to inhale, his core turning molten at the proximity of those lips, at the heat coursing from Chan’s body. He thanked his lucky stars for the oversized hoodie he wore today, because his pants were suddenly becoming uncomfortable. 

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to excuse himself from Chan’s company to hide in the bathroom and jerk off. It was amusing how Chan still hadn’t figured it out, or perhaps he had and chose to ignore it. The thought stung. It was one of the reasons Minho hadn’t come clean about his feelings. The rejection would make things awkward, and he wasn’t about to lose his best friend. _The feelings will die_ , he always told himself. But it was taking longer than expected.

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s voice was husky, sleepy.

Minho released a slow breath, realizing that they’d stopped dancing. “We should get going,” he gulped, stepping out of Chan’s arms. “We both need sleep.”

Chan didn’t argue and Minho was grateful. 

They weren’t sleeping at their respective apartments today; today they slept in the NSRF bunker because they would need to be ready for takeoff before the sun rose. The bunker was void of activity, and they made it to their room without being drawn into a conversation with anyone. 

It was a room they’d used on several occasions, whenever they went out on missions. The room was bare except for a bunk-bed and they didn’t have any belongings with them, not even clothes. They’d change into the required attire in the morning. All that was left to do was strip and get into bed. 

They’d seen each other bare-bodied numerous times, but Minho was glad that Chan hadn’t bothered flicking the light on. He still had that situation in his pants, increasingly uncomfortable as they’d walked to the bunker. He was wise to keep his eyes averted from Chan, but still, he didn’t need to look because he could just envision the contours and ridges of his body, seared into his mind from years and years of furtively admiring him. 

He waited for Chan to clamber onto the top before sliding into the bottom bed.

“Goodnight, Minho,” Chan murmured.

“Goodnight.” Minho was glad that the other was sleepy. Sure, he and Chan had seen each other jerking off. In fact, just last week he’d seen… He shook the thought out of his mind; if allowed _those_ images into his mind, he’d probably combust immediately.

Chan wouldn’t actually find it odd watching Minho get off. But he couldn’t help but think it shameful, secretly jerking off _to the person watching you jerk off_ , so he preferred doing it away from Chan’s eyes. 

Just to be safe, he waited a few minutes before pulling his underwear down to his thighs. His erection sprang free, aching to be relieved. Precum glistened on the head of his cock. Using it as lubrication, he ran his thumb over the head, smearing it over his length. He started with slow strokes, releasing the tension that had wound him so tight throughout the evening. 

He clenched his lower lip between his teeth, struggling to maintain the silence in the room. He spread his thighs, one leg dangling over the side of the bed, and began to speed up his pace.

His eyes closed, he involuntarily conjured up the image of Chan’s hand wrapped around his cock, head thrown back, his mouth gaping in pleasure. They’d been in Minho’s living room last week, watching a movie. Minho had fallen asleep at some point, and woke to Chan stroking himself. 

He wanted nothing more than to trace the veins on Chan’s cock with his tongue. He wondered what it would be like lowering himself onto that cock. He’d do it slowly, feeling every inch of it, letting it stretch him. 

He flicked his wrist, the muscles in his abdomen contracting, his hips bucking upward. He knew he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood but he didn’t care. His heart began to pound and blood rushed through his ears as the pleasure in his core grew and surged. His cock made lewd wet sounds as his fingers moved faster. If Chan was still awake…

But he couldn’t stop now. It was too much, too good. His thighs quivered and electricity struck every nerve in his body as his seed spilled over his fist, dripping onto his abdomen. His teeth released their hold on his swollen lip, and he panted, sweat dribbling down his neck, the room suddenly hot even with the air-conditioning. 

“Minho?”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“Chan?” He tried to calm his erratic heartbeat. _It’s okay. Jerking off is normal. Chan jerks off too._

“There’s something you should know.” His voice sounded close, as if he’d shifted closer to the edge of the bed. “Something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Oh?” Minho could barely breathe. “What is it?” He’d imagined this scene playing out hundreds of times. 

_“There’s something I need to tell you,” Chan would say. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”_

It was a fantasy. A school-boy dream he’d never expected to come true. But now…

He waited for Chan to answer, furrowing his brows when a minute passed, and then another. He could hear the other’s soft breaths just above him. “Chan?” His voice quivered with apprehension. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Chan sighed. His bed creaked as he fell back onto it, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. “I shouldn’t have said – I mean – I just… I don’t think this is the right time.”

“What?” Minho sat up, his head almost hitting the wooden bedframe. “You can’t just do that! You tell me there’s something I should know and then tell me to wait four fucking months?”

“I was being hasty,” Chan shifted around above Minho. “It’s the last thing we need to talk about before a mission like this. It’s better left unsaid until we get back.”

“But –”

“Just trust me.”

_Just trust me._

In that moment, Minho despised Chan for using the three words that he could never argue against. What choice did he have now except to settle back into bed and wait?

For four months.

** ><><><><**

Minho couldn’t stand it – the cloud of tension that expanded and grew more volatile every second he was near Chan, threatening to suffocate them both. 

Chan had protested against him leaving the craft, but he’d maintained that he needed some air and wouldn’t wander too far, just a few feet over the dunes. 

He looked back at the wreckage and then at the silvery stretch of water that lay ahead. The surface beckoned to his curiosity, like a vain person being drawn to a mirror to glance at their reflection. 

It would be a brisk five minute walk to the water’s edge. Chan wouldn’t even notice him gone.

He trudged through the white sand, glad that the synthetic material of his spacesuit prevented the miniscule granules from clinging to him. He scanned his surroundings as he walked. It was like a desert of salt, except… When he squinted his eyes, trying to see into the distance he could make out the faint outline of a grey peak emerging from a cloud of mist. 

Mountains of stone. They jutted up in the distance, like humongous broken arrowheads protruding from the ground.

Unless the heat was making him hallucinate. Being under the sun this long would do that to a person. Another reason why he hoped the water here would be drinkable. They had bottled water but in these conditions they’d need a lot more than what they managed to salvage.

He averted his gaze from the mountain range. It didn’t matter. There would be no time for exploring anyway. Their priority would be trying to figure out a way to stay alive until help arrived.

He reached the water faster than he’d expected. The surface was still, not a wrinkle in sight. While it had seemed grey from afar, upon closer inspection, the water was almost transparent.

At first glance, it seemed to be a very small lake, almost a pond, but when Minho crouched down and tried to peer beneath the surface, he could make out the dark hollows of underwater caverns. It really was a wonder how all this water hadn’t dried up yet. 

He bit his lip, the temptation to touch too great to resist. He knew that he shouldn’t. The composition of the water – if it was water – could be wholly different from what they had back on earth. It could be a corrosive chemical. It could lead to infection. It could kill him. But fuck it – just touching the tip of his finger to the surface would do no harm. 

He extended his hand, his pulse quickening and causing his hand to tremble slightly. He’d expected the water to feel warm, but never in a million years had he expected the glacial shock of ice. It was as though he’d plunged his finger into snow, the sudden cold sending a tremor through his body.

“Fuck,” he drew back, eyes wide, body shivering. “What the fuck.”

He looked up at the sun, and back down at the water, his brain failing to comprehend the immense difference in temperature. Just once more, to make sure this was not some fallacy owed to a hallucination, he leaned forward to brush the surface with his fingertips.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Minho recoiled from the water’s edge, looking over his shoulder to see Chan staring down at him, the anger that was usually so well contained now visible in his eyes. 

He grabbed Minho’s arm, hoisting him up onto his feet. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Minho? You should know better than that!”

“I already touched it once,” Minho wrenched his arm free from Chan’s furious grip. “And I’m fine! I’m not a child. I can handle myself.”

“Yet only a child would go around touching things that could potentially harm them.”

“I was curious,” Minho snapped, folding his arms.

“A child.”

“Fuck you,” Minho rolled his eyes skyward, stepping past him.

And then he heard it. Chan heard it too because his eyes began to dart around looking for the source. It was almost like the crack of a whip cutting through the air. It was a sound which made no sense out there. 

“What…?” Chan’s brows knitted into a frown.

The realization dawned on Minho too late. He could no longer feel the heat on the nape of his neck. He looked up just in time to see the sun disappear behind the clouds. In a matter of seconds, the clouds had begun to transform a shade darker with every passing second until the night had descended on them.

“This is amazing,” Minho breathed, startled when his breath left his mouth as an icy mist. He stared bug-eyed at the vapor that began to fall as snow, blending effortlessly with the mounds of white sand.

“Minho, we need to get back inside. Now.”

Minho followed Chan’s gaze, realizing at once what had made the cracking sound. A fine layer of ice had begun to coat the surface of the water, and before their eyes, the water began to lose its transparency as the ice grew in thickness.

“We need to go,” Chan repeated, blindly reaching for Minho’s arm.

But the sudden onset of the cold had taken Minho’s body by surprise and his body seemed to react in slow-motion, his muscles stiffening like rust-covered cogs being put to work after ages.

He put one foot in front of the other, each step feeling clumsy as if his feet weren’t his own anymore and were being controlled by some puppet master who pulled at the strings too harshly, causing him to stumble and fight to keep his balance.

Beside him, Chan was struggling too, but they kept on until they reached the craft, not daring to look back until they were safely inside. But what Minho saw when he eventually did look back, made his eyes widen in a mixture of fascination and terror. It was as if the entire planet had transformed into a ball of ice.

Thickets of snow had begun to fall, turning into tiny beads of ice before they crashed onto the iced over ground.

“Chan, we’re not going to make it through the night.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Chan pressed his lips into a thin line as he wrapped a blanket around himself, throwing one to Minho who caught it, stumbling backwards at the weight. 

“We’ll make it,” he tossed a package of cookies onto Minho’s blanket. “Eat.”

Minho didn’t dispute Chan’s claim. He wouldn’t. If Chan wanted to have hope, he could. But Minho could see what was happening outside. He could feel it.

Chan had begun to pile boxes and broken pieces of metal cabinets in front of the entrance, creating a barrier from the cold. But Minho could feel the ice creeping in, and with it, the possibility of death arrived too. And there was no way to fight it.

Dejectedly, he sat down in a corner, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. 

“Get up.”

Minho looked at Chan, startled by the order. “What?”

“I said get up.” Chan had his arms folded, looking down at Minho with an expression that seemed a lot like annoyance, although Minho couldn’t think of how he was being annoying by sitting in a corner and wallowing by himself.

“I don’t un –”

“As soon as you’re thrown into an unexpected situation, you forget every minute of your training,” Chan snapped. He was definitely annoyed.

Minho glared up at him, unable to defend himself. Chan was right after all. But still, he felt embarrassed being called out like this. It was the first time Chan had ever spoken to him this way.

“Yeah, the temperature’s probably below freezing,” Chan went on, “but it’s not like we haven’t been _taught_ what to do in this kind of situation.”

“ _Doing_ is a lot harder than watching some instructional video,” Minho tried to save some face. 

“So you’re not going to even try?”

Minho looked away. “I was going to,” he muttered. “I just needed some time to – to…” _To wallow in my misery_. He cleared his throat. “I know I have to try.”

And Minho tried. He really did. But his body seemed to protest against his attempts, fighting him with every step. Defeated, he slumped against the wall. 

“Chan, I can’t.”

There was a moment of silence, where Chan simply stared, his eyes widening as if he just came to understand something. And then, he decisively strode towards Minho. “You can.” His voice was a whisper, but it carried in the cold draft, his words echoing in Minho’s ears.

Minho looked up at him, his eyelids heavy, his heart thudding against his chest, slowly but steadily picking up speed as Chan closed in on him.

He wasn’t prepared for it. As much as he’d fantasized about it, he’d never known it could be a reality. But here he was. Here they were.

Chan’s lips brushed over his own, lightly at first and then with more purpose. Both groaned, melting into each other, taken by a sudden desperation. Chan’s teeth grazed Minho’s lower lip, his body trapping Minho’s against the wall. 

Minho’s hands found themselves wrapping around Chan, his fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. He slowly traced Chan’s soft, wet lips with his tongue until the older grew tired and captured his tongue into his mouth. Chan’s mouth was hot and tasted of sugar and cinnamon, and Minho couldn’t help the whiny moan that escaped from his lips. 

He bit back a complaint when Chan pulled back, but only because his full lips were now tracing a slow, sensual path along his jawline, and down his neck. His teeth lingered, grazing over the sensitive flesh.

Minho’s fingers carded through Chan’s blonde curls, unable to resist grinding against him. Slow rolls, deep and languid, connecting their bodies.

“Let me get this suit off you,” Chan whispered against the skin of his neck.

Minho began to nod but stopped himself. “Chan, wait.”

Chan’s hand paused at Minho’s nape, his fingers hovering over the zipper. “What is it?” He looked at Minho with concern.

“We can’t.”

“We can.”

Thirty-Two Days before the Crash 

They were on course. Everything was happening as it should. Days had ticked by, but with time, the mood between both astronauts had shifted.

This was no longer the care-free, spirited and eager Chan that Minho had known for the past five years. The man who constantly scrutinized their route, double-checked their supply every five hours and grimly sat staring at the endless space around them was a stranger to Minho. Chan’s unease had brought Minho’s own nerves to the surface and he found himself unable to sleep, tossing and turning, mind angst-ridden.

He yawned as he entered the control-room and halted when he spotted Chan sprawled in his chair, head lolled to the side as he emitted soft snores. Minho shook his head. With the ship on auto-pilot there was no need for either of them to be awake, but Chan just couldn’t help trying anyway. He was incorrigible. 

Minho dropped into the chair beside him, staring out at the dark blanket of black, contrasting with the swirls of pinks and blues and occasional white sometimes shaped as a circle, other times as a feint crescent, and the galaxies, stars, the distant glow of planets like orbs lighting up the universe. _Beautiful_. No matter how many times he found himself in these surroundings, he never grew tired of this.

He relaxed back, eyes adjusting their focus from the glass to the sleeping male beside him. If he was braver, he’d wake him by placing a kiss on those plush lips. If he was braver… And he wasn’t. So he nudged Chan’s foot with his own. “Chan,” he sighed, and then louder, “ _Chan_.”

When that didn’t work, he reached a hand out to pinch his shoulder, and Chan woke with a start. “Fuck, did I –”

“Fall asleep in the control room, yeah,” Minho laughed. “Just go to bed. It’s on auto-pilot, you know.”

Chan rubbed his eyes with his palms, blinking away his drowsiness. “Yeah, I guess I just… Just wanna make sure we get back in one piece.”

“We _always_ do,” Minho frowned. “Why are you so jittery this time? What’s different from all the other times we’ve been out here?”

Chan opened his mouth as if to answer, but shook his head. “I’m going to bed,” he gave Minho a small smile that only served to confirm that something wasn’t right. 

“You used to love these missions.”

Chan froze in the doorway, but Minho didn’t turn around to look at him. He wouldn’t be able to hide his disappointment.

“There are better things,” Chan said softly. “I used to think there was nothing better than being up here, away from everyone, going on these adventures, exploring.”

“You used to think…” Minho regarded his choice of words. “Not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Chan confirmed. “That thing I wanted to tell you… I planned on telling you sooner. But we were given this mission and…”

Minho turned to look at him now, his jaw hanging. He knew it now. He could guess.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chan averted his gaze. “I…” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re quitting.”

Chan shook his head quickly. “I’m not _quitting_. I’m transferring to the engineering department. May as well put that degree to use, right?”

“So you’re quitting,” Minho repeated stubbornly, his anger flaring. “And you couldn’t even give me a heads up. You’re just springing this on me –”

“I was going to tell you sooner, but then we received this mission.”

“I thought earth was too boring for you?” Minho asked, rising to his feet. “I thought you wanted to be up here with me for as long as you could? Wasn’t that what you said?”

“That was nearly six _years_ ago,” Chan huffed out a laugh like this was all a joke to him. “We were kids back then!”

“I see,” Minho gave him a wry smile. “I guess I should grow up, huh?”

Chan shrugged. “Things change, Minho. People change. Dreams change and –” he froze midsentence and it took Minho a second to realize why.

The sound of the siren was deafening, and Minho’s eyes widened in panic at the words that flashed across the screen in bold red letters.

**CORE ENGINE FAILURE**

They’d been through the emergency protocol hundreds of times in training, but the flashing red lights and shrill beeping threw all Minho’s training out of the window. He couldn’t think clearly through the noise and then the craft began to violently shake, the walls rattling.

Minho shrieked and fell to his knees, losing his balance when the craft lurched sharply to the left. He pressed himself into a corner, covering his ears from the deafening noise.

Chan was a blur as he rushed around the room, flicking switches and keying in codes. Minho wanted to help – knew that he should be helping – but panic had paralyzed him and he remained curled up, unable to move, unable to think, unable to speak.

“Minho!”

He could hear Chan shouting but couldn’t make out his words.

“Minho, you need to listen!”

“Chan…” his eyes darted around, and gasped when he realized that Chan had him in his arms. He was shoved into his seat, strapped in. He shook himself out of his daze and blinked rapidly. “Chan, what’s happening?”

“I need to get to the engine room. Try to keep us on route while I’m gone.”

Minho nodded, keeping an eye on the coordinates on screen and trying to steady his breathing. And as an unexpected state of calm washed over him, he began to recall his training. He took the craft off auto-pilot. If the engine failed they’d free-fall and crash. “Just like a video game,” he reminded himself like he did as a trainee when he piloted a craft for the first time. “Not that I’m very good at video games,” he muttered under his breath. “But I’ll survive. We’ll survive.”

The sirens seemed to blend into the background now and Minho could easily shut them out. Every few minutes the craft lurched off-course and Minho had to steer them back on track. Chan was taking longer than he expected, and it was worrying him, but there was no way he could leave the controls unmanned. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when the quaking of the craft began to exacerbate and things returned to a relative state of calm. Had it been a false alarm? 

“Bad news.”

Minho swore, glancing over his shoulder. “Tell me?” But he knew. From the look on Chan’s face, he could guess.

“We have to land,” Chan slid into a seat and took control of the craft. “Where’s the nearest safe zone?”

Minho ignored the feeling of dread that permeated his bones and sunk into his chest. “What went wrong?”

“Engine overheated,” Chan shook his head. “Wires are burnt through. I fixed up something temporarily but it would be best to land. Soon.”

“Fuck!” Minho could feel his panic rising again. “Chan the nearest station is over forty days away! What the fuck are we going to do?”

“We’re going to land,” Chan sounded calm and determined but Minho could see the fear in his eyes. He pulled up a map, and they both pored over their options. “Planet W93,” he read, “Planet W95…”

“Oxygen,” Minho shook his head. “We need oxygen. We aren’t equipped for any of the _W_ planets.”

They exchanged a look, their only available option was flashing before their eyes yet neither was willing to admit it.

X73.

“We can’t,” Minho whispered.

“We can.”

**> <><><><**

He protested with a whine, and forced his eyes open when Chan pulled back. 

Minho was on the floor, the other kneeling over him, licking his lips. “You know this will hurt, right? We don’t have any –”

“I don’t mind,” Minho said quickly, wanting Chan’s body pressed against his once more. “Just…” he summoned a burst of confidence. “I’m going to suck your cock, Chan. And you are going to return the favor. Okay?”

He raised his eyebrows, and Chan gave him a slow nod as he came to understand. “You sure?”

“Chan,” Minho groaned in frustration. “Just, please…”

Chan’s lips quirked into a quick smile, and he turned and straddled Minho’s face. Minho almost whimpered as hot, tight balls brushed against his cheek. 

For the millionth time he questioned whether they should be doing this. While Minho had dreamed of this for years, for Chan it had been sudden, a spur of the moment decision on his part. 

But was it _too_ sudden? Should Minho stop and think –

A second later he was shouting, his hips bucking off the floor as Chan took every inch of his cock into his mouth. “Fuck.”

His lips parted instinctively when Chan nudged his erection between his lips and he couldn’t stop himself from licking and sucking the hard shaft filling his mouth. This was what he wanted Chan to do. What he craved. And then he started craving the hot velvet flesh under his tongue. It tasted even better than he’d imagined. So much better.

 _I’m sucking Chan’s cock_ , Minho thought as he tilted his head to take more and dug his fingers into his strong thighs. His cock. Chan’s long, delicious cock that Minho fantasized about having inside him. _Holy shit, it’s finally happening and it’s so fucking good._ He moaned around his shaft,

A long wet finger chose that moment to push inside his ass, and Minho howled around the steel-hard erection in his mouth but Chan didn’t stop until he was pressing against Minho’s prostate. The bolt of sensation sent a shockwave through his body.

Fuck, he was way too good at that. He must have had a hell of a lot of practice. The thought made Minho redouble his efforts, sucking, using his tongue to give Chan even a fraction of the pleasure he was receiving.

He jerked when Chan added another finger and made a scissoring motion inside him, stretching a part of him that didn’t seem to want to stretch. It fucking hurt, but he didn’t care. And as soon as Chan pressed that magic button again, the pain disappeared and Minho pressed into his touch with a whimper. He lifted his legs and spread them, not so subtly begging for more.

Chan lifted his mouth off of his erection and gasped for breath. “Fuck, Minho. You’re still too tight.” He thrust deep and Minho shouted around him, hardly able to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. “Fuck, that’s so good,” Chan groaned. “That’s it, Minho. Suck my cock. Suck my cock and fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Minho couldn’t believe Chan was talking to him like this. It made him begin to pump frantically against Chan’s hand, close and nearly wild with a desperate kind of desire.

And then Chan’s mouth was on him again and he added a third finger. Minho couldn’t take it anymore.

“Chan, enough,” he pleaded. “Don’t want… _oh_ ,” Chan did something indescribable with his tongue, “don’t want to come yet.”

“Think you’re ready for me now?”`

Minho closed his eyes and groaned when Chan pushed the tip of one finger roughly into his ass. “Yes! I want you to fuck me. I _need_ you to fuck me. Right now.”

He heard a soft sigh, and then Chan turned around and crawled up Minho’s body, placing a soft kiss onto his lips, on his neck, scraping his teeth along one bare shoulder. He kneaded Minho’s thigh with a hand. “Up.”

Minho understood at once, cupping the backs of his thighs and lifting, spreading his legs obediently, already short of breath.

Chan clenched his jaw as though summoning the courage before he began stroking himself. Again, Minho found himself questioning whether Chan really wanted this.

5 Hours before the Crash

After an hour, the power supply went out, their only light being the torches that emitted narrow beams of white light over the controls. 

When another hour passed and the craft’s tremors were almost unbearable, Chan retreated back into the engine room, trying to fix what he could to buy them more time. Thirty days ago they’d sent a distress signal back to their station but there was no telling how long it would take to transmit, and for help to get to them.

“I have an idea,” Chan said when he emerged from the engine room four hours later. “But it’s…”

“Risky?” Minho guessed.

Chan nodded. “I’m going to stay in the engine room until we land.”

Minho looked at him incredulously. “Are you fucking crazy? If the engine explodes – and it _will_ – you’re going to kill yourself!”

“No,” Chan shook his head. “I’m going to try to unwire the engine, just before we land. Get rid of it. So that when it explodes, the rest of the craft will at least be safe.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard!” Minho glared. “If you die –”

“At least one of us will have a chance.”

Minho’s heart sank. “Then let _me_.”

“You don’t even know how to unwire the engine.”

“Can’t I just cut everything?” Minho enquired with a shrug, knowing very well that would have catastrophic consequences.

Minho glanced at his best friend. Chan was always so calm and collected, a small smile always on his face even in the direst situation. Minho didn’t know when he fell in love with him. One moment he was his best friend, and the next… Minho couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, to be seen as more than just another friend. 

He could tell him now. There were a few hours left until they met their ends, or were thrown into the unknown. He should tell him now. Would he really want the heartbreak in his final moments? Or could he risk it? 

Wasn’t everything he did a risk? Every time he was up here, exploring the unknown, a small mistake away from death, it was a risk. What was one more?

“I need to tell you something,” Minho could feel his body tensing, his heart beating against his chest in wild panic.

Chan looked away from the screen, his attention focused on Minho now. “Yeah?”

Minho wished he would look away. The intensity of his stare, made Minho forget his words. “I… Uh…”

“You can tell me,” Chan offered him a small smile, placing a hand on his knee. 

Minho shivered at his touch. “We’ve been friends for a while, right? Best friends.”

Chan nodded, eyes widening slightly.

“But for a long time now,” Minho gulped, running a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends, “I’ve felt more.”

“More?” Chan’s brows knitted together, mouth twisting into a frown.

Fuck, why couldn’t he just get it? Minho closed his eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, steeling himself. 

“I have feelings for you, Chan. I don’t want to be just a friend anymore.” 

Sirens began to blare above them and Chan recoiled from Minho, turning to the screen again. “Prepare for a crash-landing. I’ll be in the engine room.” Minho watched him leave, not knowing whether his confession had been heard or not.

**> <><><><**

He bit his lip in determination and hefted his legs higher, offering himself without hesitation or fear. He’d needed this for so long, craved it, dreamed of it. He knew he needed to pause and really think about it. He knew they needed to talk about those final moments up in the craft. He knew that this shouldn’t be happening, that it would just cause more complications. He knew that he needed to question the timing of this. 

But he couldn’t. Not right then. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Why are you always so impatient?” Chan asked, smiling despite himself. He smeared his precum over his shaft, his eyes raking over Minho’s body. Minho wasn’t one of those who doubted their attractiveness. He knew he was good-looking, especially without clothes. He’d been explicitly told many times. But seeing Chan’s eyes aflame with lust, seemingly caused by Minho’s waiting body, made the younger soar with delight.

He felt the tip of Chan’s thick erection and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He wasn’t sure he could take it all, no matter how much he wanted to.

Chan gripped his thigh hard enough to leave a bruise and guided himself slowly inside. “Push out and breathe for me. You can – _ah_ yes, like that. You’re tight but you can take me. You’re going to take all of me.”

It was too much. Minho couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t see anything but Chan’s fierce expression as he struggled to follow his muttered commands.

Nothing in his limited experience had prepared him for what was happening inside him. Pain so sharp it felt like pleasure. Desperation and greed and impatience for more. Chan was going too slow. Being too careful.

Minho let go of his legs and reached for the man above him, fingers digging into firm muscle and hot skin as he pulled him closer. Deeper. “Yes!”

“Fuck,” Chan swore, grabbing Minho under his knees and lifting until his ankles were resting on his broad shoulders. 

He pressed their bodies together, bending Minho in half and teasing him with soft, biting kisses. “Is this what you want?” he growled out. 

Minho couldn’t speak. He groaned into Chan’s mouth as the man ground against him, rotating his hips in a way that made them both shake and sweat with need.

His erection was pressing onto Chan’s tight stomach with just enough friction to make him needy, but not enough to find his release. He reached for Chan’s hips again but his wrists were caught and dragged over his head.

“Be patient,” Chan muttered against his jaw. “Let’s make this last a little longer.”

“How much longer?” Minho gasped, struggling lightly in his hold, close to taking over if he didn’t get what he wanted. “I need you. Don’t you fucking understand that?”

“You know, your impatience stops being cute after a while.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Chan’s expression and Minho knew he was close to pushing him over the edge. 

“Then give me what I want.”

“I don’t just don’t want to hurt you,” Chan finally admitted. 

“You’re behaving like I’m a virgin,” Minho snorted. “I’ve done this before. I’ve gone dry before.”

“That’s not what –”

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but it was something stronger than desire and much hotter than lust. Minho lifted his head and bit Chan’s neck, sucking hard on the tight salty skin. “Hurt me,” he rasped out, feeling raw and completely vulnerable. “Anything. All of it. I need it. Need you to fuck me.”

The words caused a tremor to run through the man above him and then, _finally_ , he came unhinged. Chan’s hips began to pound hard and fast against his and Minho cried out with every deep thrust.

He was shouting unintelligible words, his body struggling to get closer, to reach something he couldn’t name that was closing in on him. They were competing in an instinctual race to the ultimate prize. It was a struggle to get closer to the fire, to be swallowed by the flame. Minho never wanted it to end. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m close.” Chan dropped one hand between their bodies and gripped Minho tight, stroking his hard shaft. “Come with me.”

Minho wanted to argue, wanted to beg for him not to stop but his own release was nearing.

Chan stiffened and came with a raw cry, his hips jerking and pulsing against Minho. The rush of liquid heat filling him set off Minho’s own powerful release, each new wave rolling through his body leaving him shaken.

Chan grunted as he slowly pulled out of Minho, rolling onto his back and pulling the blankets over them both. They panted, clinging to each other, trying to trap the heat they’d created.

Minho knew he should let it be. He should take what he was given. As a child he was taught never to question his blessings. Take a gift when it’s given. But Minho had always been curious. Curious about the things he didn’t understand. The stars, the sky, the galaxies unexplored. 

And now, that curiosity niggled at him, forcing the question out of his mouth. 

“Why?”

“What?” Chan murmured against his neck.

“About this, what we just…” Minho struggled to phrase the question so he settled for something else. “I don’t know whether you heard what I told you before the crash.”

Chan hummed, his lips sending soft vibrations against Minho’s skin. “Yeah, I heard you.”

Ah.

“Then, does that mean you – you…” 

“What?”

“Chan,” Minho chided. “You – you know what I’m asking.”

“No,” Chan lifted his head, his brows furrowed. “I don’t, Minho. I can’t read your mind.”

Minho sighed in frustration. “How do you feel about me?”

“Oh.” Chan’s fingers absentmindedly trailed over Minho’s stomach. “Minho, this was…”

“What?” Minho turned onto his side, forcing Chan’s hand to slip away. “This was what?”

“I’m just trying to keep us alive. That’s all this is.”

Minho lay back down, unable to understand how he’d let this happen. He’d been flying, soaring, and he’d crashed – twice in one day.

But somehow, the second crash was more painful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 💕💕💕💕💕💕  
> Twitter   
> CuriousCat


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